


Wouldn't It Be Nice?

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Supernatural Season 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Beach Boys lead to a prayer, which leads to a... forced confession. Set between 8x21 and 8x22.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Dean leaned back in the wooden chair, an old, leather-bound book laying in front of him, pen hanging idly from the side of his mouth. He had been doing research for three hours straight to find something that would point them in the right direction. So far, he’d found nothing, not even a clue, about the third trial. With an annoyed sigh, he sat up and hovered over the book, flipping to the next page and scanning the words. Light music echoed across the room from the record player, he’d been listening to the Beach Boys for the past twenty minutes to get something on his mind other than this last damn trial. The record clicked and the first notes of the next song drifted over to him.

“And wouldn’t it be nice to live together,

in the kind of world where we belong.

“You know its gonna make it that much better

when we can say goodnight and stay together.”

Dean raised his head and glared at the record player. Really? This song? Cas was the very last thing he needed to be thinking about. He shook his head and continued to try and read.

“You know it seems the more we talk about it,

It only makes it worse to live without it.”

That’s it, he thought. Quickly, he grabbed the pillow from behind his head and chucked it at the dumb vinyl, hoping to knock it over. But of course not; the song kept playing. Dean groaned, rising from his chair and sulked over to the player, raising the needle and removing the vinyl. He stood there for a few seconds. Damn it Cas, where the hell are you? he thought. He scrubbed his face with his hand, letting out an exasperated groan. He turned and walked back over to the chair, plopping down, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes.

“Oh Castiel who art… uh… man, Hell if I know. Somewhere. Anyway… I know I already prayed this morning and… well… I’m probably annoying you or whatever, I just… really wish you’d drop in. I get it, you gotta keep the tablet safe. I mean I guess I get it, I still don’t know why we can’t help you, but you know we would if you asked. I’m just… really worried about Sam, he’s getting worse every day. I don’t know if he’s gonna make it through this. We just… really need you around.” Dean took in a shaky breath before continuing. “And… I guess… I kinda miss you, too… so if you could come around sometime, that would be… great.”

He slowly opened his eyes to find Sam leaning against the door frame, watching him sadly.

“Dean, we need to talk about this, “ Sam said, walking over and sitting in a chair across from him.

“No, we don’t,” Dean answered sternly, grabbing the book and pretending to read it, eyes focused intensely.

“Come on, man, you pray to him at least once a day. Now, I know you’ve never been in love before, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say-”

“Don’t,” Dean cut him off, shooting him a glare before throwing the book down on the table, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s okay, you know, if you do love him. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Damn it, Sam! I don’t love Cas!” Dean practically yelled, suddenly over-defensive. Sam stared at Dean, eyebrows raised, lips tight. The room was silent for a few seconds before the sound of flapping wings filled the air, and Castiel appeared in front of them.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said in his usual flat tone. Dean would have been happy to see him if Cas had decided to show up ten minutes later.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes and taking another swig of beer. Cas sure had impeccable timing. Across from him Sam was smirking, Dean wanted to make some bitchy comment but he decided to ignore his brother.

“Are you alright Dean? Is there something wrong? Your prayer sounded.. urgent,” Cas asked, narrowing his eyes at the hunter in concern.

“No, I- I’m fine. Hey, Cas,” Dean replied, giving Cas a small smile. Sam started to bust up laughing.

“You so love him,” he managed to say in between spurts of laughter.

“Sam, shut up,” Dean warned. If his brother said one more thing, he was going to kick his ass. Dean stole a glance at Cas, who looked extremely confused, but curious.

“You love me?” he asked Dean quietly, almost in disbelief.

“Can we not discuss this right now?” Dean said loudly, running his hands nervously through his hair.

“I have to go do some research, so I’ll leave you two alone,” said Sam, getting up and practically running out of the room.

Dean avoided Cas’s eyes; he could feel them burning through his head, trying to read him. He got up from the chair, walking over to the bookshelf, placing the book back in its spot, trying to busy himself so Cas wouldn’t ask him anything else. When he turned back around, Cas had him cornered against the bookshelf, looking at him curiously, his head tilted to the side.

“Dean… do you love me?” the angel asked. Dean’s eyes darted back and forth across Cas’s face, then dropped down to his feet. He fidgeted with his hands nervously.

“Cas… I…” he started, then stopped. Dean felt his face starting to heat up, a blush rising on his cheeks. Cas’s eyes widened, and he abruptly stepped forward, clumsily pressing his lips against Dean’s.

“I love you too, Dean.”


End file.
